Mountain of Imperial Tales High School for the Mythologically Gifted
by Madame Zashley
Summary: MITHS has been a prominent educational facility for young Olympians for several generations. When two cursed prophets, a Muse's descendant, a young love deity, an observant Underworlder, and a new exchange student from the other side of Eurasia find their deepest secrets spilling over, will seemingly harmless mishaps push old and new bonds past their limits?
1. Prologue

Pale feet pounded against the forest floor, matching the shaky breath that accompanied their steps. Twigs snapped underneath, scraping the barefoot pads of skin that didn't seem to pay any mind to the small discomforts. Long, flaming red hair trailed wildly behind the running teen, his blue tunic and matching shorts slightly tattered with loosened threads while the ornate golden cape alluding to his high status was draped over his shoulders like a mere shawl.

Sweat beading down his face, he followed the sound of fingers expertly plucking a guitar's strings. The sound was ethereal, causing the nearby birds to jump in with their own soft, high tones while small mammals stopped what they were doing in order to dance to the melody. It seemed as though even the trees had been coaxed into swaying with the time of the lightly optimistic ballad. While the teen's ears had certainly failed him before, he was certain that the scene before him could have only been produced by one particular classmate of his.

Forcing himself past a clump of bristles, he came into the nearby clearing. Certainly enough, in the center sat the source of the harmonic sound. The blonde-haired musician sat upon a tree stump, olive hands that sprouted from the ends of denim sleeves gently strumming the golden, acoustic instrument that rested tenderly against his chest. His eyes were closed in peace, shoulder-length ponytail gently shifting in the breeze that swept past him.

"A-Alto!"

The ending of the music was abrupt yet proper as the brown eyes of Alto Lyrikos opened up to greet the winded, red-haired third-year before him. Alto was well-known throughout most of Mountain of Imperial Tales High School for the Mythologically Gifted- or MITHS, as most of its staff and students addressed it- as the calm son of the epic Muse Calliope who drew people in with his lovely and effortless tunes. His first name was Melodíus, but no one dared to call him such. To most, he was mysterious and unapproachable, especially during a time of practice. To the amber-eyed ginger who had freshly entered the clearing, he was a friend.

"Yes, Teledamus?" the blond drawled quietly, a passive grin meeting his features.

"It's Thomas!" The son of the cursed prophet Cassandra and former king Agamemnon interjected, only to clear his throat. "I mean, yes, Teledamus. I, um, still have to get used to being called by my real name without getting paranoid about persecution."

Alto nodded once. "I see. And why is that?"

Teledamus sighed. "Because it's _new_ for me. We _have_ been over this, right?"

Alto gave a second nod in consideration. "That, we have," he admitted. "What have you come here for?"

"I've been looking for you all afternoon," Teledamus replied, taking a seat beside the half-Muse. "So has Florence. And that's not even counting the school staff- by the way, exactly how many times do you plan on skipping music class?"

"As long as it takes for them to realize I'm not going to show up to music class," Alto answered with a small shrug.

Teledamus scratched the back of his head. "You know that's really a terrible way to go about things, right?" he muttered. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around why you, of all people, would want to skip music."

"The people in those classes do not appreciate true music," Alto murmured, dropping the trace of a smile that had adorned his face. "If they did, such a class would not be confined to a music room."

Teledamus attempted to meet Alto's gaze, but gave up when he realized that Alto was looking very purposefully into the distance. "You're going to get expelled sooner or later with that attitude."

"I hope to Zeus that wasn't one of your visions you just blurted out," Alto said, leaning back.

"You know it wasn't," Teledamus grumbled, bitter toward the mention of his visions. His mother, Cassandra, had been cursed so that no one would believe her prophetic visions. While Teledamus had inherited the power of prophecy, his own curse made it so that he simply couldn't share any information he found in a vision. Instead, when he did attempt to speak of future prophecies, his mouth would dry up, and his the words would catch in his throat.

The corner of Alto's mouth picked up. "It's not like they're going to kick out the son of a Muse."

"I guess," Teledamus agreed uncertainly, brows furrowed. He opened his mouth as though to continue but thought better of it at the last moment. After a few moments in silence, Teledamus heard some sort of soft beating, along with the sudden noise of something thumping against a tree. Teledamus raised an eyebrow. "Um. Do my ears deceive me, Alto?"

"No, Teledamus," Alto said, his words punctuated with a hint of a sigh. "They do not."

Something broke through the brush, revealing a powder-pink, winged second-year with hair as bright and pink as bubblegum. The young teen brushed a leaf off of his shoulder, blue eyes lighting up as he spotted Teledamus and Alto. "Tel! Alto! I knew I heard music somewhere."

Alto's own face held a bit of a glad glow to it as the chipper son of the love god, Eros, and his once-mortal lover, Psyche, approached. "Hey, Florence. Run into one of the trees back there?"

"Right. Yes. Only one," Florence said a bit too quickly, running a hand through his neon pompadour. After a moment, he easily and comfortably smiled away the awkwardness, letting his feet touch the ground as his softly beating wings grew still. "Tel told me that you had gone missing, again. We both went looking for you," he said, suddenly turning a bit more serious. He leaned forward toward Alto, hands on his straightened knees. "We were really worried this time."

The half-Muse let out a heavy breath. "Well, I'm fine. Has Miss Erato really been making some sort of big deal out of this?"

Teledamus nodded. "She started going into some sort of mad frenzy this time. Said she's going to drag you into Headmistress Metis's office as soon as you return."

"Well, that's fine," Alto half-whispered, letting his eyes snap shut. "Just fine."

Letting his fingers do as they pleased, Alto started up with a more subdued, calming song. Teledamus lied on his back, allowing the tall grass to brush against the sides of his face. The tangles of his chest-length hair spread across the ground in the shape of the sun itself, which rested its light on his lithe body.

Florence slowly came to the empty side of Alto, sitting almost soundlessly beside him. Without a word, the young love deity came to rest against his music-bound roommate's shoulder, closing his own eyes.

A light breeze continued on its merry way, a nice bit of chill in the shining sun of a mid-autumn day. A colder season was just around the corner; none of the students at MITHS saw any point in wasting the bit of outside warmth that remained. The mere thought of Persephone, unfortunate daughter of the harvest deity Demeter, taking her place as Queen of the Underworld for the year and her mother's ensuing wrath against the seasons already brought a shiver down Teledamus's spine.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't the thought of approaching winter that made Teledamus so discomforted, but the vision that he was delivered at that moment as he lay in the clearing. His upper body shot up as his eyes and ears turned against him, causing him to clutch at the roots of his hair and he shut his eyes tightly.

"Are you alright?" Alto asked softly, eyes opening narrowly as he continued to play on his guitar.

"Alright as I can be at a time like this," Teledamus murmured. Standing up, he turned to leave the clearing, making quick but uneasy steps into the privacy of the brush.

Florence shifted to stand, but Alto halted his music to reach an arm out, stopping the underclassman with a solemn glance. They both knew rather well that they wouldn't be able to ease their friend's pains during the times he was meant to receive prophecies, try as they might have over the past few weeks.

"We could at least go after him," Florence pointed out. "What if he gets into trouble?"

The half-Muse let his arm drop, but Teledamus was already returning.

"That was quick," Alto commented.

Teledamus nodded. "Yeah. It was really...kind of lame, as well," he said vaguely, too aware of his magical inability to share the specifics of what he had seen. He scratched the back of his head. "It's also going to happen in about five seconds."

Florence cocked his head to the side as Alto raised an eyebrow, but both otherwise remained still. A scream was heard in the distance.

Teledamus raised a finger. "There we go."

Florence rushed forth to investigate, Alto following closely behind. The red-haired prince trailed after them, taking a more leisurely pace.

In a small dip between two laurel trees stood the cloaked daughter of the blind prophet Tiresias, Cyra Órama. Her grey, sightless eyes were fixed on something standing before her. Moving toward her, Florence was able to spot the focus of her blind gaze: a small, white fox. It shifted three magnificent tails behind it, taking a sitting position.

"What is this _creature_ that I have predicted before me?" the third-year brunette shouted indignantly, moving the pointed stick in her hand from the fox to the three boys. "Tell me, those of you who have approached!"

"It's…" Florence was speechless for a moment, his cheeks becoming a darker shade of pink as his already attentive eyes opened further. He ran down into the small dip between the two trees, nearly flailing a bit as he reached the animal and eagerly held out a hand to pet it. "...A kitsune!"

"A kits...uh...what, now?" Alto inquired, observing the three-tailed fox from a distance.

"A kitsune. It probably belongs to one of the new exchange students from Gakuen Kojiki," Teledamus mused as he came up behind Alto and Cyra. "You know, that Japanese mythology school."

"Teledamus! Oh, thank Atropos you've arrived," Cyra said dramatically, moving her hand around a bit before finding Teledamus's shoulder and setting her fingers around it.

"Why Atropos in particular?" Teledamus asked.

Cyra shrugged. "What's not to like about Atropos? She's always been my favorite of the Fates."

"Are you lost, kitsune?" Florence gushed sympathetically, ruffling the fur of its head. "We could help you find your owner."

"_No._"

Florence blinked. The conversation between Teledamus and Cyra stopped as both turned their head toward the small creature.

"The thing can speak?" Cyra muttered. "Wish I'd predicted _that_…"

"_I was simply attempting to enjoy some free time before this one started screaming at me like one of those harpies_," the kitsune continued, its harsh brown glare darting over to Cyra for a moment. "_If you'll excuse me? Hirorin is waiting for me_."

The kitsune shot up and ran from Florence and the others. Florence held a hand out in the direction it went, a look of slight sadness on his face for a brief moment as he watched the kitsune leave.

Teledamus shook his head. "Yeah, I never liked kitsunes. They're a bit stuck up at times."

"Maybe," said Florence. "We should still love them nonetheless. And not only because they're cute, though that helps," he added with a chuckle.

Cyra sighed. "Whatever you say. I'm ready to head back to the school grounds, now," she announced with a flourish.

"I'll come with you," Teledamus offered.

"Oh, me too," Florence said, following after Cyra as she began walking.

Teledamus looked at Alto, who stood perfectly still. The teen prince rolled his eyes. "Come on, Alto. It's fine. You said so yourself, remember?"

Alto, on the other hand, portrayed a look of unadulterated realization and shock as he stood behind one of the laurel trees. "Headmistress Metis is going to kill me as soon as I get back onto the campus."

Teledamus sighed, walking toward the half-Muse and giving him a slight push. "If need be, I'll happily offer to be murdered along with you."

After one last push, harder than the one prior, Alto took a reluctant step forward, hanging his head. As the two started their slow pace toward the school, the blond picked idly at the strings of his golden guitar, creating a melancholy tune that none of the forest's creatures bothered trying to dance to.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Oh look, a new series. Charming little thing, as I hope you may find it to be.<br>**

* * *

><p><strong>Name Meanings<strong>

**Teledamus Elias Alítheia: Teledamus is the name of one of two children born to Cassandra and Agamemnon in Greek mythology and possibly means "far-ruling" or "ruling from afar". Elias comes from Elijah, the name of a Hebrew prophet. Alítheia means "truth", a reference to the term "Cassandra truth".**

**Melodíus Alto Lyrikos: **Melodíus **comes from the Greek word melodía, meaning melody. Alto is a type of vocal range. Lyrikos means "lyrics", often referring to poetry.**

**Cyra Pythia Órama: Cyra is a possible feminine form of the Greek name Cyrus, meaning "far-sighted" or "young". The Pythia was the name of any given priestess in the Temple of Apollo at Delphi; this priestess also known as the "Oracle of Delphi". Órama means vision, specifically of the prophetic variety.**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>

**I hope that it will never be necessary for me to state this ever again: _I do not own any form of mythology_.**

****_Teledamus Elias Alítheia_, _**Melodíus **_**_Alto Lyrikos_, and _**Cyra Pythia**** Órama**_**, that particular kitsune, and _"Hirorin"_** belong to me.******

******_Florence Aimee Grania_ belongs to my friend MysticalMosaic.******

******At least one other character from a different author may be joining this tale in the near future.******

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! R&amp;R if you do feel so inclined.<strong>


	2. Exposition

Cyra knew the layout of MITHS like she knew the palm of her hand, or like she knew what was going to occur within the next few seconds. In fact, she could have easily traversed throughout the school like it was her own home under certain circumstances. However, even her detailed knowledge could not prevent the busy crowd in the hallways right after school from tripping her up far too often for her liking. This was proven particularly true as she was pushed roughly on the shoulder, spare incense candles and other AP Controlled Prophecies tools spilling from her arms and onto the smooth, marbled floor below.

The cloaked girl muttered something to herself as she ran a hand through light brown curls, bending down to pick up what had fallen. She managed to locate most of the candles, but some pieces were still missing. _Probably crushed under an Amazon's foot_, Cyra determined bitterly. Receiving a tap on the shoulder, she placed her hand there, capturing the fingers of the person who had touched her. "Yes, dear?" she asked, trying to determine the person she was speaking to by the lines of their hands. She was unsuccessful, not recognizing the person's particular pattern._  
><em>

"Um..." a slightly high-pitched and silk-smooth voice arose, certainly feminine. "I think this is yours?" Feeling a candle's cylindrical wax brush against her hand, Cyra let go of the other girl to accept it. A pack of matches was also put into her hand. "This, too."

Cyra nodded. "Indeed, they are. Thank you for that, darling," she said as she stood, pulling up a sandal strap that had fallen down to her ankle. "Say, who are you? I can't recognize your hand lines, though they inform me that you are rather... easily stressed."

"Am I? I feel fine," the other girl said, twirling a lock of dark blue hair that Cyra couldn't see before letting it rest on the pink, short-sleeved empress top of her floral dress. "To answer your question, my name is Mochiinari Hiroko, daughter of Inari-Okami and Ukemochi. I'm a part of the exchange program."

"Wait, Hiroko? As in..._Hirorin_?" Cyra inquired, pointing a candle in Hiroko's direction.

"I'd prefer if you didn't call me that," Hiroko muttered, "but that's one nickname."

"So you're the owner of that snobbish little fox creature?"

"I do own a kitsune. Snobbish? Maybe a bit," Hiroko admitted.

Cyra scoffed. "You need to teach that thing a few more manners."

"_Me_? Teach _Ume-kun_? It's much older than I am, and more experienced, too."

Cyra shook her head. "Sure it is. Anyway, _Hirorin_, it's been so very nice to meet you, but my sense of timing is off and I'd like to get back to my dorm as quickly as possible," she said, beginning to turn away.

"I'll come with you at least part of the way," Hiroko decided, hurried footsteps of her black flats coming into sync with Cyra's as the prophet started moving. "I need to get to my own room, anyway. What is your room number- and your name, by the way?"

"Cyra," Cyra answered. "Cyra Órama. The room is 216."

"What a coincidence," Hiroko murmured. For the first time, Cyra noticed the sound of paper shifting in the other girl's grip. "That's my room number, too."

Cyra nearly stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean? I didn't know we were getting a new roommate."

"We?" Hiroko asked. "Right, dorms of three. The other must be Katine Magév̱o̱, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, that is my roommate's name," Cyra confirmed. "And we've been getting along just fine as it is without a third person to throw into the mix, _Hirorin_."

"Please don't call me that," Hiroko mumbled, scratching the back of her head.

"Well, what title would you prefer?"

"Mochiinari-san is fine."

Cyra sighed. "That's too many syllables. For now on, you're just going to be Hiroko in my book."

"If you say so," Hiroko said, folding her arms over her chest.

The two walked in silence for a bit before Cyra spoke up. "I wonder what Katine's going to think of this new arrangement."

"What is she like?" Hiroko asked.

"Ah...decent. We get along fine."

"Do you, now?"

"_Yes_."

"You know," Hiroko began, "the more you confirm that you and Magév̱o̱-san are on good terms, the less I seem to believe you for some reason."

"Well, we are on just good terms," Cyra reiterated. "Then again, it's difficult to tell where I stand with her. She's too terse at times."

Hiroko nodded in comprehension. Cyra came to a quick halt, turning to face the door of her room. Taking a key from the inward pocket of her smoky gray cloak, she unlocked the knob before opening up the entryway, letting the cool breeze of movement rush at her face.

"Katine," Cyra introduced dryly, her unseeing gaze honing in on the dark-haired girl who sat on one of the beds. A book sat open before her with a small, violet image projected in the shape of an alchemy circle. Her hooded green eyes, one brighter than the other, shifted to Cyra and Hiroko in the doorway, fingers idly straightening out the black sleeve ends of her dull trenchcoat. Around her neck was a scarf that appeared to be made of a smoky, intangible substance.

"Oh, Cyra," the daughter of the Underworld magic goddess Hekate replied, appearing a bit surprised by the other girl's tone. "I see she's arrived."

"Why was I not informed that we were going to obtain a roommate?"

"Well, I mean, Miss Manto did give us two weeks of notice," Katine pointed out, waving at the violet illusion without looking at it so that it softly faded.

"Sure wish I'd predicted _something_ in regards to that," Cyra muttered, dragging her feet slightly as she entered the room and went over to a shelf on her side. "How can I be expected to remember anything my sister says, even if she is a school counselor?"

Hiroko continued to stand in the doorway, eyes dashing between the other two girls.

"Um, come in," Katine told the shorter girl, attempting a reassuring grin that managed to waver. "Don't let my roommate's demeanor intimidate you; she's not so fond of sudden change," she informed, briefly glaring over at the light brunet. "I'm Katine Magév̱o̱, by the way."

Hiroko slowly entered the room, glancing at the spare bed that the other two roommates had turned into a sort of shared surface. She walked over to Katine, holding her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Magév̱o̱-san," she said. "I'm Mochiinari Hiroko."

Katine gazed at the blue-haired second-year's hand for a moment, blinking as though uncertain. Coming to her senses, she quickly took the other's girl's hand with her indigo-stained one, firmly shaking it and momentarily looking into Hiroko's navy-blue eyes. "Nice to meet you, Hiroko," she replied.

As the two released hands, Hiroko brought her attention back to the third bed of the room, which was covered in everything from textbooks and papers to torches and ashes. She frowned a bit as she approached, raising an eyebrow.

Katine watched, appearing to have taken note of the other girl's hesitation. "We'll get that extra bed cleaned up soon," she promised. "Won't we, Cyra?"

Cyra shrugged, facing away as she messed with the cabinets of her bedside drawer.

_So you really have no intention of helping out here__, I see,_ Katine thought with a sort of irritation. "By the way, Hiroko, where are your things?"

"I don't have any."

Katine leaned back so that her back was against the wall. "You don't?"

Hiroko shook her head, clutching at a small plum blossom as it fell from its place in her braid. "It's...a long story. You really don't want to hear it."

"Is it simply that we don't want to hear it," Cyra asked, whipping her head around to face the new transfer student, "or is it simply that you don't want to tell it?"

"...Maybe both," Hiroko admitted carefully, fixing her stare on the nearby window. The room, evidently, was on the third floor, allowing quite a broad glimpse into the front of the courtyard below. Behind that, laurel trees covered the enchanted garden from view, and even further back were the tall forest trees that signaled the start of the wild things that dwelled off-campus. The peak of Olympus stood far away and on the other side of the school, well out of view.

Cyra simply rolled her eyes in response. Katine also remained quiet, Hiroko seeming content with her window-bound musing. Through this opening, the room was open to the smooth and wind-laced air, a hint of winter that meshed well alongside the oranges and deep reds of the foliage below. Soon, the yōkai Yuki-onna would be visiting the mountains, awaiting a snowstorm in which she could capture some unfortunate traveler and freeze him. The thought of missing her arrival brought a sigh to Hiroko's lips.

The second-year looked slightly to the left, seeing students as the popped in and out of the dorms building entrance. The others at this school, as she had to admit, were at least as interesting as those back home. A winged girl, her arms covered in bark and her hair sticking straight up, walked out alongside a monochromatic demoness in business-ready attire.

Behind her, Hiroko began to hear the idle chatter of her new roommates.

"...Cursed Mythics Society."

"That's an...interesting title."

"It's supposed to be some silly little support group for cursed students."

"And you're joining it?"

"Alas, Teladamus roped me into it. Of course, I wouldn't consider myself to be cursed- cursed with beauty, perhaps, whatever that means. But who knows, maybe I can get some service hours out of helping those losers."

Seeing a blur of white and red on the edge of the windowsill, Hiroko turned her head. There sat a particular kitsune, quietly flicking its tails. Hiroko held her hand out, allowing Ume to hop onto it and balance with an uncanny ease.

"How are you certain that will give you service hours?" Katine asked.

"How are you so certain that it won't?" Cyra retorted.

"I'm not," Katine admitted with a shrug. "It just seems a little too...I don't know...general?"

Cyra opened her mouth to reply, but soon did the opposite, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Have I just predicted some obnoxious creature?"

"_Obnoxious? No, but certainly of a higher class than yourself,_" Ume replied, skittering onto its owner's shoulder. Hiroko simply sighed at her pet's behavior.

Cyra leered. "Why, you little..."

Ume ignored the prophet as her face went vibrant and heated with brewing distaste. It made its way onto her personal desk, shuffling across papers and unintentionally ripping one of the pages of her AP Controlled Prophecies textbooks. Though Cyra could not see how the small fox was making itself at home on her table, hearing its actions was more than enough.

"Hiroko, I am going to kill it if you don't get it out of here," Cyra muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ume, please..." Hiroko murmured, her eyes tightly shut and her cheeks starting to flush. She held her hand out toward the kitsune.

"_To be fair, Hirorin, I would merely testing a potential temporary home for the time that you have dragged me out here,_" Ume reasoned. "_This surface, however, is not suitable. I will try a very specific laurel tree next._"

"You...go do that, Ume-kun," Hiroko encouraged hurriedly, watching as Ume climbed down the side of the building. As it did so, the wooden door of the dorm room opened with a slight creak, revealing a light brunette with a tempered composure despite the fire in her eyes.

"No pets in the building!" the young woman stated firmly, her dull blue eyes scanning the room. Seeing no pet in sight, she scratched the back of her head. "I guess that prediction came a little late."

"Sorry about that, Miss Manto," Katine said coolly, sitting up from the chair she had moved to during her conversation with Cyra. "It won't happen again."

"Good," Manto replied. Looking to Hiroko, she quietly repeated, "no pets in the building. None of that. Have a nice day." With that said and a couple of meaningless hand gestures, she slowly closed the door.

Hiroko looked to Cyra. "What that-"

"My sister? School counselor? Both," Cyra answered. She slung a small, pale green bag over one shoulder. "As I was saying to Katine, I should probably get to the new charity- I mean, _club_. I look forward to getting to speak to you more later, Hiroko...you too, Katine." With a sudden wink that seemed odd on her otherwise fairly careless expression, Cyra exited the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Sorry about this chapter being a bit of a short one. The next should have more room for detail. Also, sorry for those of you that I may have confused via the scene change; this story isn't going to follow a single protagonist so much as a group. It will mainly center around Alto, Cyra, Teledamus, Hiroko, Florence, and Katine...and Ume, I guess, since it just ends up everywhere.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Name Meanings<strong>

**Mochiinari Hiroko****: Hiroko is a Japanese feminine name with multiple meanings, though the particular kanji used in Hiroko's name means "rich child". Mochiinari is a portmanteau of (Uke)mochi and Inari( Ōkami), Hiroko's parents.**

**Ume: Ume is the Japanese word for plum.**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>

********_**Cyra Pythia**** Órama, Mochiinari Hiroko, **_**and _Ume_ belong to me. _Manto_ is a canon name in myth, but the interpretation is mainly mine.**********

**********_Katine Melanthia Akakia Katára Magév̱o̱_ belongs to my friend brookewyrm-the-strangeling.**********

* * *

><p><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong>Thank you for reading! R&amp;R if you do feel so inclined.<strong>**********


	3. Skene

"Thank you again for allowing the Cursed Mythics Society to be held in your room, Miss Megaera," Teledamus told the black-winged woman sitting at her desk. Her body seemed to be an opaque silhouette, and her bloodshot eyes briefly shot their attention to the young prophet before returning with a scowl to the papers before her. Her darkly-haired head hardly shifted at the movement.

"Anything to help you unfortunate lessers deal with your insecurities," the Erinys replied dismissively. Her voice was acidic, hissing and spitting both at once. "Just don't distract me from this point forward and there will be no troubles."

"Right," Teledamus murmured as softly as he could, eyebrows pulled in from listening to the Dark Arts teacher's biting tone. He continued to move the desks and chairs to three of the room's sides, opposite of the door. There was a space left in the center that proceeded the whiteboard in the front. On the board, the redhead had recently written the letters "CURSED MYTHICS SOCIETY" in neat letters, a handwriting effort that took a few tries for Teledamus to get done properly.

Leaning on one of the desks, Teledamus felt one of few final copies of club flyers shift underneath his hand. Typed up in Greek and adorned with an image of a voodoo doll- which, in retrospect, may have been a bit creepier than intended- what felt like hundreds of flyers had been passed out to a very specific demographic of students. The true number, however, was no more than a few dozen, and Teledamus was right to doubt that most of those teens would actually be interested. The club sheet had been signed by exactly three students, that number excluding Teledamus himself.

Looking to the wall-clock, the ginger-haired prince checked the time. Only a few minutes remained until the meeting was slated to begin. Teledamus sat down at the nearest desk, laying out a sign-in sheet and a pen for those who would hopefully enter. Mere seconds later, his low-set hopes seemed to be fulfilled.

Into the room shuffled a rather short, olive-skinned teen dressed in a dark violet robe, the names of Underworld deities written in Greek letters along the robe's golden edges. His dark gray hair was messy, his face youthful as well as offset by a pair of gauged earrings. For his height alone, Teledamus would have pinned him as a second-year student if he didn't know any better.

"Hello, Sir Teledamus. Or was it Thomas?" the fourth-year son of Atropos asked respectfully as he reached for the pen.

"Hello, Zotico. It's...um...you can call me either one," Teledamus told his Golden-Age Art classmate. He stood up from the desk, idly moving in the direction of the whiteboard.

"Sir Zotico," greeted a feminine voice. The figure to which the smooth tone belonged came up behind the young deity. There stood a girl with a very fine physique, the variety of which was accentuated by her black suede skirt, fishnet leggings, and low-cut tank top. However, for all her beauty, her form was offset by the ski mask that covered her face, accompanied by an hooded jacket.

"Miss Hermione," Zotico replied with delighted surprise. Having finished writing his name, he gave the pen to the auburn-haired girl, who proceeded to put her name and the time on the sign-in sheet. "Glad to see you could make it."

"Well, I did say that I would be here," Hermione replied with a subtle grin that was hardly noticeable from underneath her mask. Looking at the other two beings in the room, her eyes rested on Teledamus.

The teen oracle stepped forward, stiffly holding a hand out. "Hello there. I'm Teledamus, club president," he introduced. "You must be Hermione Spartan?"

"That's me, in the flesh," Hermione confirmed with a nod. After a moment, she returned a rather discomforted handshake before going to take a seat near the back. Zotico took a chair of his own a mere couple of tightly-packed desks away.

Into the entrance of the room came a girl with skin like tree bark, her golden hair sticking straight up and two bark-made wings on her back. She wore a casual, sporty otp and a skirt of a fiery color palette. She came into the room with an humorless look on her face, not even glancing at the sign-in sheet as she went to sit.

"Laurel," Zotico said, blinking. "I didn't see your name on the sign-up sheet in the hall earlier."

"Yeah...I had a bit of trouble with that," the daughter of Apollo and Daphne stated blankly, holding up her hands- or, rather, her lack thereof. Instead, at the ends of her arms were a pair of leafy bushels. Her long skirt held stiffly, only bending down when she took a seat.

Teledamus glanced up at the clock once against. Sure enough, it was time for the meeting to begin. Teledamus made his way up to the board, standing before the three new club members. "Alright. We have one member late, but I think it's time to get this started," he announced. "So, welcome to the Cursed Mythics Society. I am Teledamus Alítheia. To start this thing off, we're going to...um...i-introduce ourselves." Teledamus swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady as a prophetic migraine slowly crept up on him. "Any questions before we begin?"

Laurel raised her arm. "What's your curse?"

"Oh, well...I-I'm a...um...I'll tell you in a moment," Teledamus promised, his round gaze flickering over to the open doorway as a familiar brunette entered. "Cyra! You're...you're late."

"Trust me, I'm aware of this. I got a bit caught up in some new business and forgot," Cyra replied. Reaching into her cloak pocket, she pulled out her Andromoid phone. "You really should just send me a little notification next meeting."

"Cyra, I don't have a phone...you know this..." Teledamus muttered, putting a hand to his temple in an attempt to ease his aching head. He walked closer to her and said in a hushed tone, "do you think you could keep them talking for a minute or two? I think I'm about to faint."

Cyra raised an eyebrow, answering in a tone that was none too soft. "Seriously? I understand that you tend to pass out during speech class, but from wat I've predicted, there are only two other people here..."

"Three," Teledamus murmured back. "And it's not that. It's...it's a vision. Sorry, Cyra, I've got to go for a minute..."

Cyra sighed. "If you insist, Teledamus," she said reluctantly, giving the underclassman a light shove on the shoulder as he headed into the hallway. She then turned her sharp, sightless focus to the club members. "Hello, there," she greeted, searching around for a moment before grabbing at a loose chair to sit in. "I apologize for my pathetically timid friend's abnormal conduct. He's got issues."

Zotico nodded. "Well...I guess issues are what we're all here for, right?"

"For you all, maybe," Cyra replied, leaning back in her chair and resting her hands on her lap. "So, who wants to introduce themselves first?"

There was a moment of silence. "Um...I suppose I'll go," Hermione finally decided, shifting in her seat. "I am Hermione Spartan, second-year. My curse is simple: I was given the face of a dog."

"Ouch," said Cyra, who gave a bit of a less-than-sympathetic grin. "That certainly is something. Zotico, you're up next."

"Right. Well, I'm Zotico Moirai," said Zotico. "I'm a fourth-year. And my curse is...um...well, you all know what it is already."

"Why don't you demonstrate?" Laurel asked innocently, gesturing to the flyer in front of Zotico.

Zotico's face flushed. "Well, I mean, if you already know what it is..."

"I kind of want to watch you struggle," Hermione blurted out before pressing the palm of her hand flatly to her mask. She slumped in her seat. "Sorry, force of old habit." If her face had been visible, a red blush certainly would have been noted behind a thin layer of fur.

Cyra pointed in Hermione's general direction with a grin. "I like you."

Zotico gritted his teeth as he looked desperately down at the page. After a moment, he reluctantly lifted it with both hands, pulling on it. Though he attempted his best, grunting a bit in the process, the paper refused to tear underneath the opposing forces. With a heavy sigh, he slapped the undamaged paper back down, grimacing as he hurt his own hand with the force. "So, as you can observe, I can't destroy anything- even paper- for the life of me."

Cyra clapped. "Fantastic. And you, third group member?"

Laurel gestured generally to herself. "I'm Laurel Phoibos. As for my curse...well, for one thing, I'm half tree. I consider that to be a curse as is."

"Oh, that is rather unfortunate," Cyra mused. She seemed to scan the room with a blind gaze, eventually resting her chin on her hand. "Well, since Teledamus still seems to be MIA, I suppose I have no choice but to keep stalling. Any questions?"

Hermione raised her hand, though moments later noted that Cyra probably wouldn't be able to see it. Laurel, however, was the first to open her mouth. "What's your curse?"

Cyra smirked, seeming disbelieving at the other girl's inquiry. After moments of quiet waiting, she chuckled a bit. "Dear, I haven't got one. I'm only here as charity."

An awkward touch of silence came about the room, broken only by the sound of footsteps as Teledamus came back into the room. "Alright, I'm back. What happened while I was gone?" he asked. He seemed to be mostly over the headache that had taken over him prior to leaving the room, though a hand still kept itself loosely to his temple.

"Oh, Teledamus. You missed the best part," said Cyra. "We had a fond little introduction. Zotico even offered to demonstrate his curse for us."

Looking at the future Fate that Cyra had alluded to, Teledamus mouthed something along the lines of, _"I'm so sorry"_.

"So, what was this newest prophecy of yours about?" Cyra asked Teledamus.

Teledamus's mouth flattened into a thin line. "You know very well that I can't tell you. I have to admit, though, it's...much more serious than usual."

Cyra smirked. "I'm certain it was. Come now, young prophet," she commanded with a flourish toward the three new club members, who still sat in their chairs with a perfectly awkward, perplexed vibe. "Your club awaits."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: I do apologize for the short chapter. I'll be honest; this was partially made to get some introductions out of the way. I swear, there are only, like, two more characters that you might need to care about at some point. We'll get to them later. The next chapter(after the upcoming Parados) will be much more...active, to say the least.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Fun Fact: The original draft for Teledamus made it so that he was unable to say anything true. This proved to be too awkward of a communication style for such a main character.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Name Meanings:<strong>

**Zotico Mortus Moirai: Zotico is a Greek name meaning "full of life". The middle name Mortus was chosen because it sounds similar to mortis, a word associated with death. Moirai is the plural term of a Moira and an alternative title for the Fates.**

**Laurel Bay Phoibos: Laurel and Bay were chosen as a reference to the kind of tree that Daphne was transformed into. Phoibos or Phoebus is an alternative title for Apollo.**

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>

****_Teledamus Elias Alítheia_, ******_**Cyra Pythia**** Órama**_**, _Zotico Mortus Moirai_, and _Laurel Bay Phoibos_ belong to me. **********_Megaera_ is a canon name in myth, but the interpretation is mainly mine.**********************

**********************_Hermione Lydia Spartan_ belongs to my friend Rosalind Queen of Fangirls.**********************


End file.
